


Drop

by zimriya



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: “What’s Hyung doing now?”“Doing the ment,” reports Jaeyoung-hyung. “And talking about Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim. Mentioning you. Thanking the staff.”“His entire thigh is out,” says Changmin rather tonelessly. “And he’s thanking the staff.”“Yunho-hyung is a professional,” Jaeyoung-hyung says. “Oh. He’s coming off to change.”"Good.” Changmin hops off the dressing room table and goes to stand menacingly by the door. “I’m going to kill him.”





	Drop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@mx_sora](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40mx_sora).



> For Sora, enabled by Debs (as always) and Nat and Kama and WAY TOO MANY PPL ON TWITTER AND TUMBLR. This author recommends you listen to a Drop performance for most of this fic. This author also, apparently, likes her Homin with mutual possession kinks and bad one-liners, and also, wanted to continue being petty but Sora wanted some bottom Changmin so. Enjoy, friend. 
> 
> Betaed by the one and only Debs and also Poppy WHO TRULY DID THE MOST FOR THIS FIC SO MANY THINGS SHE WAS LIKE ‘this is not physically possible’. All other mistakes are my own.

**Drop**  

\--

Yunho rips his pants on stage.

Only, Yunho doesn’t just rip his pants on stage. Yunho somehow does a rather tame leg split--Changmin is going to have to murder a stylist over this, evidently--and the entire left inseam of his stage pants gives up the ghost, leaving most of his thigh, dick, and rather colorful underwear choice out for _everyone. In the world. To see._

Changmin finds out the news from half of EXO, the entirety of Super Junior present plus Donghae plus _Kyuhyun_ , whom Changmin is going to have to have words with about taking time out of his busy enlistment schedule when he knows Changmin is also off and also loitering backstage with Donghae and _not coming to see him_.

But later. After he’s done murdering his bandmate.

“What. The fuck?” says Changmin. None of those two sentences is a question.

At his side, Jaeyoung-hyung heaves a long, rather drawn out sigh. “I’ll call London Pride,” he says.

“What. The _fuck_?” Changmin repeats, staring down at his phone--blowing up, filled with messages from people Changmin used to love and respect and want to be friends with but will now have to disown and never speak to again because they don’t understand the gravity of the damn situation--and feeling very much like he’s having an out of body experience.

“Actually let me call the press first,” says Jaeyoung-hyung, sighing again. “Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim is here at least, so I won’t have to jump through hoops to reach him.” He purses his lips. “Kim-ssi is going to kill him.”

“Kill the stylist, you mean,” says Changmin, finally getting his shit together. “What’s Hyung doing now?”

Jaeyoung-hyung gestures to one of the staff loitering around the dressing rooms with them--Changmin has been under strict don’t-go-outside-and-be-seen-by-sasaengs orders from Yunho and also himself, because he doesn’t want to make this into a big deal or steal Yunho’s show. But it also means he won’t get to see Yunho until later, when the other man finally begs off work to trek home. He’ll probably have to take Yunho’s phone.

“Doing the ment,” says Jaeyoung-hyung finally. “And talking about Lee Sooman-seonsaengnim. Mentioning you. Thanking the staff.”

“His entire thigh is out,” says Changmin rather tonelessly. “And he’s thanking the staff.”

“Yunho-hyung is a professional,” Jaeyoung-hyung says. “Oh. He’s coming off to change.”

“Good.” Changmin hops off the dressing room table and goes to stand menacingly by the door. “I’m going to kill him.”

“He’s not coming all the way backstage,” says Jaeyoung-hyung. “Changmin--”

But Changmin isn’t listening. Changmin is making calculations, debating how much trouble he’ll be in, and it’s all he can do not to giggle too loudly at the commotion behind him--Jaeyoung-hyung shouting, “Yah! _Shim_ _Changmin don’t you dare_!” as he books it out the dressing room clutching a back of pair of black dress pants and making his way to the front of the backstage.

The staff and stylists around Yunho shoot Changmin less than impressed looks and someone gets on a radio to let Jaeyoung-hyung that ‘yes Changminnie is here--we found him--like a puppy, isn’t he,” but the look Yunho gives him, sheepish, half out of the broken pants already and trying not to snicker too hard as their fans shout his name over and over, makes it all worth it.

The stylists take the dress pants from Changmin, frowning a little at the fit and the lack of the embellishment, and finish getting Yunho out of the ruined ones, so that he’s just standing there in the red boxer briefs grinning at Changmin like an idiot.

Changmin’s throat bobs, and he very pointedly keeps his eyes on Yunho’s face.

It doesn’t help; his makeups starting to run.

The stylists gesture for a chair, but Yunho waves them off.

“ _Yah_.” Yunho’s mic is off, bless, but he’s whispering anyway. He shoves a still shod foot into one of the legs of the new pants and grabs Changmin by the shoulder to steady himself, digging in.

Changmin winces, even more turned on, and trying not to glance down at all the bare skin.

“Shim Changmin.” Yunho’s fingers flex in the meat of Changmin’s shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be hiding?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be _dressed_?” Changmin snaps back, feeling a little warm around the collar but holding his position so that Yunho doesn’t fall. They have to be quick; there’s only so many fan-chants the fans can take before it starts to be a wait, and Yunho never wants to make them wait.

Yunho ducks his head but lets the stylists get to work on the pants--smoothing the wrinkles, frowning at the lack of detailing down the sides, and shaking their heads.

“You are wearing _jeans_ for  ‘Hope,’” Changmin snaps, once Yunho’s dressed to everyone’s liking and they’re gesturing him back on stage for the medley. “Dark _jeans_.”

“Yes, darling,” says Yunho promptly, like Changmin’s his wife, and Changmin would squawk at him and smack him but they’re back stage and trying to be inconspicuous. “Love you!”

Yunho’s off back on stage to cheers, getting ready for ‘Why.’

“He said something stupid, didn’t he,” Changmin says promptly, shooting a glance at the coordi-noona standing next to him.

She startles, but meets his eyes. “No comment.”

“He said something stupid about _me_ , didn’t he?” Changmin concludes, and goes striding off into the depths of the backstage to find Jaeyoung-hyung, holding onto Changmin’s phone--say what you will about the man but he is a seasoned professional and Changmin is proud--and looking wild eyed. “Hyung.”

His manager snaps to attention, breath coming hard.

“What did Yunho-hyung say about me?”

Jaeyoung-hyung blinks. “Er.”

“Don’t give me that--he told me he loved me before going on stage.”

Jaeyoung-hyung rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and not so kindly steers Changmin more quickly back towards the TVXQ dressing room.

They pass Red Velvet, Boa, and Heechul-hyung, the all of whom shoot Changmin knowing and smirking looks.

Changmin leans down into his manager's space more menacingly. “What did he say about me?” he growls out.

“He said you told him to show the fans everything,” says Jaeyoung-hyung, voice a little shrill. “Now come on! You’re going to get me fired.”

Changmin lets the man corral him back inside the dressing room away from prying eyes without comment, eyes dark, mouth a solid line, and fingers dancing along his phone keypad in a way that leaves everyone in the room with him silent.

 _Chwangggggg_ , says Kyuhyun. _How are things?_

 _I know you’re here and I’m angry about that but first what is Yunho-hyung doing_.

 _Performing?_ Kyuhyun’s upward inflection is audible even through texts. _Seriously, Changmin, I don’t think anyone really noticed until he mentioned it._

 _You noticed_ , Changmin replies.

 _What are we talking about?_ interrupts Minho.

 _Don’t act like you don’t know_ , replies Changmin, around the same time Kyuhyun also replies.

_Yeah, well, I was really high up and also I’m a performer, Changmin. I’m supposed to be on the eye out for things like that._

_For Yunho-hyung’s dick, you mean?_ replies Minho, and Changmin closes his eyes.

He breaks the silence. “Hyung.”

Jaeyoung-hyung makes a noise.

“Can I kill an enlisted soldier?”

“Nope.” Jaeyoung doesn’t even bat an eyelid. “Now look alive. The set’s over.”

“Oh, I’m alive, alright,” says Changmin, as Yunho arrives back to the dressing room in a flurry of laughter and bemused looking stylists. One of them is bowing profusely and clutching the tattered remains of the stage costume. The rest of them look positively radiant.

Yunho smiles, eyes kind.

Changmin raises himself to his full height.

“Yunho- _hyung_ ,” he starts, but before he can do more than stomp his way over to glare, Yunho is disengaging from his crowd and slapping an arm around Changmin’s shoulders.

“Changdol.” His voice is too loud, breath too short, and he’s pouring off sweat.

Changmin feels an ache of longing in the pit of his stomach; he wants to come off stage with Yunho, breath gone, shirt drenched through, high as a kite on screams and energy and _music._ Forty-one days, as the fans are oh so fond of reminding him. Barely more than a month.

Changmin breathes.

“I’m glad you came,” Yunho says quietly, into the shell of Changmin’s ear.

Changmin scowls a little, but also blushes, and fumbles at the bracelet around his left wrist.

One of the stylists--the newer one clutching the wardrobe malfunction--darts glances between the two of them and the bracelet.

Changmin stares back at her, entirely unfazed.

Yunho just tugs him closer, still smiling. It’s infectious; Changmin finds himself grinning back.

“Great.” Jaeyoung-hyung sounds incredibly done. “Lucky for you, most of the press has been good--about your professionalism, your aura, and your visuals.” He says the last bit almost dubiously.

Changmin takes a break from smiling stupidly at the love of his life to raise an eyebrow at his manager. “You got a problem with Yunho-hyung’s visuals?”

Jaeyoung-hyung stares back at him entirely unbothered. “Not at all,” he says. “Now come on. Get changed. We’ve got early schedules tomorrow. And you have to go serve.” He gives Changmin and Yunho another look, shakes his head, and heads towards the back of the room to talk with the other staff, phone out and thumb no doubt scrolling through the press coverage and the DC fan-accounts.

Changmin starts doing mental math to figure out when Jaeyoung-hyung took over as head manager.

“Has he really been around since 2014?” he says to Yunho, reaching to help him out of his t-shirt not because he needs it, but because otherwise he’ll start to feel even more like an awkward sports wife, or something. Even though Yunho’s the one who’d ended up on the sidelines at Changmin’s basketball match, looking over eager and quite like he’d like to make out with Changmin in front of the entire Cool Kiz crew.

“Mm?” Yunho tilts his head at him, eyes still smudged around with makeup.

Changmin feels his throat and words dry up. “Manager-hyung.”

Jaeyoung-hyung lifts his free hand up with the middle finger raised.

“Has he really been around since 2014?”

Yunho emerges from his t-shirt with a yawn and takes the hoodie the stylist hands him easily. “I guess?”

“That’s three years, Hyung.” Changmin watches him zip the thing up and tries not to feel cheated of a view. Yunho’s diet always worries him, not because he worries about Yunho himself, but because he knows how it is, what it’s like, and it’s been long enough that he can watch their performances from 2008 and frown at all the visible ribs. (At the time, he’d been too young and eager to please, and probably more than a little conflicted because of how hot he found Yunho topless.)

Changmin makes a face.

“You’re thinking about my abs, aren’t you,” Yunho says smugly.

He’s not wrong.

Changmin makes more faces. “2014 was three years ago, Hyung. Don’t you think it’s time we got rid of him?”

“Your car’s here,” says Jaeyoung-hyung. “Changmin-ah.” He hurls a spare hoodie at Changmin. “Put this on.” He frowns. “Hunch.”

“Yeah, that’ll hide him,” says Yunho, dodging out of the way of Changmin’s fists.  “Changminnie’s a giant.”

“Shut up; I wear insoles,” snaps Changmin, shrugging into the hoodie and tugging the hood up over his ears.

“I know.” Yunho pouts. “It’s unfair--you’re already a giant.”

“I’m not a giant.” It’s possible Changmin is blushing, but he can sense the praise coming in like three seconds and he is not in the mood. He is angry at Yunho. For flashing the world… and… stuff with his… stuff.

“You are a giant.” Yunho smiles at him, and then--the asshole--pats Changmin on the head a few times. He even ruffles Changmin’s covered up hair, even though it’s cropped short and not at all conducive to ruffling.

The more worrying thing is Changmin _lets him_.

“Yeah, don’t do that.” Jaeyoung-hyung wanders by with Yunho’s bag.

“Shut up,” snaps Changmin, definitely blushing now, and tucks himself in close to Yunho’s side for the remainder of their walk in the covered-up areas.

\--

“Don’t wash that off,” says Changmin on his way past Yunho carrying a towel. He tugs his shirt up over his face before he can see the man’s expression.

“Changdol?”

“Don’t wash that off.” Changmin folds his shirt neatly onto the toilet lid of Yunho’s bathroom with a mild yawn. He really is due back at work in the morning, but daily showering is an important part of keeping one’s skin idol perfect, not to mention Yunho’s shower is the best. Especially since all Changmin has to do to get Yunho in it with him is strip off, usually.

Yunho finishes brushing his teeth at the sink and spits out, before dropping his head down to gargle water.

Changmin watches him with bemused eyes, watching him recap the tube--which he squeezed from the bottom--and drop his toothbrush next to Changmin’s on the countertop.

“But Changdol.” Yunho turns to face him, chest bare, sweatpants low on his hips, and abs out. For the world--for _Changmin_ \--to see.

This is the body of man who was a special class soldier, minus a few pounds and muscle mass, but no less deadly. Changmin can see it in the slope of his shoulders, the subtle curve to his biceps, and the ripple of muscle when he moves, shifting his weight from side to side and crossing his arms a little self-consciously across his chest.

“Yah,” Yunho says. “Stop that.”

Changmin makes a show of raising his eyes slowly up his body.

Yunho’s staring back at him, cheeks a little warm, but he’s smiling a tiny smile.

Changmin grins back and shucks out of his boxers as a test.

Yunho’s stare holds, barely.

“You can look, if you want,” Changmin says, turning so that he can turn on the water. “I’m not a prude.”

The room goes silent for the rushing water, but Changmin fancies he can hear Yunho’s feet padding across the bathroom tiles and that he can feel the ghost of his breath on the back of his neck.

He sticks a hand under the spray regardless.

“I mean, weren’t you telling all our friends about how you’d as good as married me the last time we went out drinking? For the New Year, I guess?”

He thinks he hears a misstep, and risks a smile. The water’s perfect. He turns on the showerhead.

“I’d think being as good as married warrants a little ogling.”

“Ogling.” Yunho’s definitely behind him now, so close Changmin wonders why he can’t feel them touching, and his breath is hot against the nape of Changmin’s neck.

“Yeah.” Changmin’s voice is rough around the edges so he clears his throat. “You were ogling. I was. I was ogling.”

“You were fucking me with your eyes,” corrects Yunho, stepping back suddenly.

Changmin whines, unable to help himself.

He goes to turn after him.

“You told me not to wash it off,” Yunho says, stilling him. “If I get in there with you we’ll more than wash it off.”

Changmin has a flash of Yunho on his knees, under the spray, lashes damp and make up running in rivulets down his cheeks. He swallows. “It’s waterproof, right?” he manages. His voice is a mangled mess.

Yunho just stares back at him with one eyebrow raised.

It doesn’t really help Changmin much on the voice front.

Yunho turns and leaves the bathroom. “Don’t use all the hot water.”  

Changmin has to work incredibly hard not to brain himself getting into the shower. “Right,” he mutters to himself. “We cannot tell Kyuline that Hyung makes us weak in the knees. They’ll never let me live this down. I know Kyu’s got an entire folder of Bambi gifs and Jaeyoung-hyung already told me I can’t kill enlisted individuals--”

“Changmin-ah,” says Yunho. “Who are you talking to?” He sounds closer. Changmin risks a glance out the curtain.

Yunho stands in front of the shower, still shirtless, still barefoot, still half in stage make up, and grinning like the cat that’s got the cream.

He has Changmin’s phone in his hands.

Changmin yelps, and switches the water very frantically to cold. This backfires horribly--he stops being aroused by how much of a dick Yunho is, but also his dick starts wishing death on the rest of him, and Changmin ends up very gently beating his head against the tiled walls for longer than entirely necessary. “Divorce,” he rasps out eventually, raising his voice to be heard over the water and Yunho’s sudden giggling. “I’m filing for divorce!”

“I love you too, Changdol!” Yunho shouts back.

Changmin whines, utterly caught.

\--

Yunho’s lost the sweatpants by the time Changmin gets out of the shower, having given himself a mental dressing down and a long talking to in front of the mirror as he was toweling off his hair and going about his skincare routine.

Which, when he gets out of the room with just the towel around his waist to find Yunho lounging across his bed wearing just the red underwear with one hand nestled around his right hip, thumbing the waistband, the skin care routine was a bad plan.

“I just exfoliated,” Changmin says, unable to take his eyes off of Yunho’s dick. The briefs are… brief, and there really isn’t anything much left to the imagination. Yunho bends a knee and his thigh muscles flex. Changmin’s jaw sets, because, well, the entire nation plus internet got quite the eyeful of that same thigh plus underwear plus _dick_ , and that is just.

Not okay.

That’s Changmin’s.

(With Yunho’s permission, of course.)

Changmin brings his eyes back up to Yunho’s face in time for the man to smirk a little and shrug his shoulders. His chest jiggles.

Changmin’s thinking brain decides to take a vacation. He’s feeling a little parched. “I just exfoliated,” he blurts, like a broken record.

“That’s nice,” Yunho says.

Changmin manages to get his eyes above the man’s waistline. “I,” he says. “You.”

“Me,” Yunho repeats. “You.”

“I just exfoliated,” Changmin repeats, coming back to the fact that he can’t see himself escaping this night sweat free, and thus, his clear idol perfect skin is _ruined_.

“That wasn’t very smart of you, Changdol,” says Yunho, the asshole, and lets go of his hips.

He places both of his hands on the bed at his sides.

Changmin stares at them, considering. “Oh?” he says. He’s starting to get an idea.

Yunho just stares up at him, eyes completely trusting. He’s still all done up--lids painted peach and lashline darkened with khol.

Changmin licks his lips.

Yunho’s mouth curves.

Changmin sets his shoulders back. “Hyung.” He drops his tone, considering. “Yunho.”

Yunho’s pupils blow out a little, and his head dips a little.

Changmin feels something in his chest smart--he’s earned the right to informality ages ago; _fuck_ , Yunho. He lets it go, gives himself a moment to close his eyes, before reaching for the knot of his towel with a half-lidded glance.

Yunho watches him, entranced and oh so willing. His head tips back a little, baring his throat.

The show of trust goes through Changmin like a whip-crack, straightening his spine and making him dizzy with it. He lets the towel drop to the floor, doesn’t even think twice about the mess he’s making; he’s about to make an even bigger mess, after all, and also it’s not even his apartment anyway.

Yunho follows him with his eyes, breath quickening, as Changmin sets a knee on the bed.

“Yunho,” he says again.

Yunho’s lips part. “Changmin,” he replies.

Changmin’s nostrils flare. “You were very bad today.” And then he stops, brows pulling together and nose scrunching up. “What the fuck?” he says.

Yunho holds it together for a few seconds, but then he’s laughing, sitting up from his sprawl and reaching out so that he can drag Changmin into his lap in between giggles. Changmin ends up sprawled naked across his lap, ass plopped down across those unfairly muscled thighs, cock going half hard and sliding along the lines of Yunho’s abs.

“Shut up,” he tells Yunho, ears pink. “Just. Shut up.”

“But Changdol.” Yunho reaches out to tweak an ear or two. “I was such a _bad boy_ today.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m tired--shut up,” snaps Changmin, embarrassed. “I was feeling out the mood.”

“And the mood was saying corny one liners and a hard flogging, was it?” says Yunho, and he says it all in a rush and with such aplomb that Changmin actually worries for his own sanity. Because instead of sending him screaming to the hills, it’s making him love the man even more.

“What the fuck?” he says again.

Yunho just cuddles him more solidly against his massive chest and giggles right up against Changmin’s temple. “You’re the best, Changdol,” he says. “Please don’t change.”

Changmin feel the amusement filter out of the room like a balloon pop. “Only if you promise not to also,” he says. “And that we’ll do this till they’re sick of us.”

“Deal,” Yunho says, sealing their hands together between them. “Promise.”

Changmin presses a kiss to the bit of face near his lips. “Good,” he says, and gives Yunho a quick squeeze. Then he shoves him away gently. “Yah. Hyung. The military was awful for us.”

Yunho frowns at him. “You loved the military,” he protests.

“ _You_ loved the military,” Changmin corrects. “But you do realize this is the first time we’ve fucked properly since you’ve discharged, right?”

Yunho blinks at him. “Changmin, technically we haven’t fucked--”

Changmin grinds his ass down against the man’s dick pointedly.

“--yet,” Yunho finishes, cheeks warm. “But also. What is your point?”

“My point is we’re old,” Changmin says, reaching down to try to get the boxers down and off. “You’ve turned me sappy in my old age.”

Yunho snorts. “I’d think the fact that I just did a comeback performance to the point where my pants ripped means I’m far from _old_ ,” he says. “All the fans want to know my secret.”

“All the fans _saw_ your secret,” snaps Changmin. “What the fuck are these? Are they _glued_ on?”

“What--Changmin.” Yunho’s eyes widen, and he scrambles down to help. “Changmin--don’t rip--Chang _MIN_.”

“Oops.” The briefs rip down the side with a satisfying tearing noise and Changmin debates getting out of Yunho’s lap so that he can drag them off him with his teeth.

He settles for shoving the things down Yunho’s thighs until the other man can kick them off.

Yunho is staring at him with a mixture of arousal and horror, but his dick gives him away.

Changmin gives it a rather appreciative once over before smirking down at Yunho. He settles more firmly into his lap.

“Changdol.” Yunho looks like he’s lost that battle and gone from horror to arousal in three seconds flat. “Those. Were not mine.”

“Sorry, Hyung, I just couldn’t help myself. You know how I get when I’m working hard on stage--wait. What--”

Yunho pouts at him, lips pressing together into a pretty pout that distracts Changmin for a split second. Enough for Yunho to grab him by both hips and pull him more solidly against his chest as he scoots them back to the headboard. “I can’t believe you did that.” Yunho shoots the sorry excuse for underwear a sad look. “Now I’m going to have to buy replacements.”

“Replace--yah--whose underwear are you wearing--” says Changmin, feeling well out of his depth.

“Those belonged to my other half, Changdol,” Yunho says. “What am I supposed to tell my other half?”

“Other half?” Changmin slaps Yunho’s hands off of his hips, incensed. “I’m your other half. How many halves have you got? How can a person have three halves that doesn’t make any fucking _sense_ , Hyung--” He breaks off, fumbles for the briefs, and drags them up to glare at the tag.

The room goes silent.

Changmin sets the underwear down next to them.

Yunho drops his hands back on Changmin’s hips with a blinding grin. “Oops?”

“I’m going to kill you,” says Changmin, and reaches to the side for the lube.

Yunho just grins up at him. “Love you too, Changdol,” he says.

Changmin scowls at him, uncapping the bottle with narrowed eyes. “Kill you,” he says, wetting his fingers and then lifting himself up on his knees.

Yunho’s breath punches out, and he watches Changmin work himself open with a finger with baited breath. “Oh,” he says, voice rough. “Oh, I. I thought you wanted--”

“No--pe,” Changmin says, word breaking in two. He’s not being as kind to himself as Yunho would, but he’s been worked up since before the damn shower, so he figures it’s justified.

Yunho’s hands are still on his hips, and his thumbs are rubbing little circles across the bone. It is unfair how worked up that’s making Changmin, but there’s not much between that and getting those hands on his dick, and fuck if Yunho isn’t stellar at handjobs. And blowjobs. At _all_ jobs--Yunho’s basically the best at sex.

But only with Changmin, because Yunho’s not having sex with anyone but Changmin.

Ever.

Changmin breathes, lets his head fall down towards Yunho’s, and adds two more fingers.

Yunho hisses, one hand coming off Changmin’s hip and going to cop a feel. “Don’t,” he says, fingers tracing down to join Changmin’s. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Yunho-hyung.” Changmin gives his fingers a long curl and almost growls at how bad the angle is. “Do shut up.”

Yunho-hyung, rather amazingly, does.

Changmin feels that like a stab to his gut. His breath punches out of him in a few gasps. “Right,” he says. “Okay, then.”

“Mmm,” Yunho still sounds half worried, but he’s not doing more than watching Changmin’s hand disappear behind his back.

Changmin pulls his fingers with a small hiss, and then reaches for more lube.

“Changmin,” says Yunho.

Changmin gets a palmful and grabs him by the dick.

“Chang--Changmin,” Yunho gasps.

Changmin gives him a few strokes, almost gets distracted, curls his wrist on the upstroke a few times, watches the way Yunho’s lashes flutter and his mouth opens into ‘o’, and then sinks down.

“Oh,” he says, sighing. “Oh, Hyung.”

Yunho stares up at him like he’s a revelation, hands tight on Changmin’s hips.

Changmin tests himself, works his hips in small circles and then, deeming himself ready--and fucking done with waiting--sits himself down fully.

It certainly feels like a fucking revelation, Changmin decides, and let his eyes fall almost shut. “Yunho-hyung,” he moans.

“Were you.” Yunho sounds strained and his grip on Changmin’s hips is biting. “Weren’t you punishing me?”

Changmin tries out a thrust, feels his eyes roll back a little, and then leans down for a kiss.

A kiss turns into a _kiss_ , complete with a hand in his hair and Yunho’s hips starting to work with Changmin’s little aborted movements that make Changmin’s head spin and his skin start to thrum.

Yunho croons out praises into his mouth, lets go of Changmin’s left hip finally and drags a hand down to where they’re joined, and thumbs at the skin there until Changmin is shuddering, mouth making tiny noises into the seal of their lips.

“Fuck,” he gasps, breaking away to stare down at the swollen expanse of Yunho’s mouth.

Yunho stares back at him, cheeks pink, chest heaving, and then, smirks.

Changmin has a sinking feeling.

“Changdol.” There are hands on his hips again, and Yunho is shifting on the bed, knees bending up and feet folding under him. Changmin holds on for the entire process, heart thudding in his chest, and it’s all he can do not to groan at the slow drag of Yunho’s dick as they move.

“Fuck,” he says again, a little light-headed. “Fuck, I should _not_ have sat on your dick, should I?”

Yunho tucks his knees under him and hoists; Changmin goes, feeling rather like a ragdoll, and also going a little cross-eyed because he’s got centimeters and a few kilograms on Yunho still (because army muscles) and the fact that Yunho can basically lift him (and then drop him down onto his back without pulling out or anything) is fucking _doing things_ to him.

“No,” Yunho agrees, once they’re done, and Changmin’s got a moment to just lie on his back and breathe. “You probably shouldn’t have.” His hips give a small, considering thrust.

Changmin whines, head dropping back and to the side. He lets a leg down from around Yunho’s hips, groans a little when that really doesn’t help, and then lets the other man drag it up and over his shoulder. “Yah,” he protests, feeling the strain. “Why?”

Yunho cages him more solidly against the bed. “Changdol,” he says.

“I was supposed to be punishing you,” Changmin bites out, voice slurring a little bit as Yunho starts to work up to a real rhythm. There’s not nearly enough friction, though, and Changmin spares a brief thought to the fact that maybe it’s because he hadn’t been gentle enough with himself on the prepping front and Yunho’s too good for this world, but that very quickly becomes secondary to the fact that Jung Yunho, fan proclaimed king of Hallyu, and leader of one of the biggest bands in East Asia, has started singing his damn comeback song into Changmin’s ear.

Changmin blinks bleary eyes open and blinks blearily up at him. “Yunho-hyung,” he says. “What the fuck?”

Yunho finishes the verse, gives Changmin a considering once over, and then thrusts--hard this time, and angling so that Changmin’s heads snaps back on a groan.

“ _Oh_ ,” Changmin moans. “Oh. Fuck. _Yunho_.”

Yunho hums, hips slowing again, and Changmin growls.

“Are you _punishing_ me?” he manages, getting his eyes open again and pulling his legs free of Yunho and letting them drop onto the bed.

“Maybe.” Yunho grabs him by the hips again, ignores the indignant squawk that Changmin gives, and pulls them both upright. The move unseats his dick from Changmin’s ass, which Changmin is thankful for, really, since it means he might have a decent chance of actually contributing to the conversation in a meaningful way. Only, nope, Changmin’s fucked, literally, since Yunho’s turning him around so they’re both kneeling front to back, and Changmin groans, because this is his favorite position because of how deep Yunho can get.

Even though they’re both rather partial to fucking face to face.

Only--

“Why are _you_ punishing _me_?” Changmin gets out, as Yunho presses kisses up and down the length of his neck. His hips are fucking up against Changmin’s ass, his fingers tapping an odd beat against the expanse of Changmin’s hips and abs, and Changmin realizes, rather abruptly, that that beat is the chorus to  ‘Drop.’

“Jung Yunho,” he gasps out, gone. “You are such an arrogant asshole.”

Yunho presses a kiss right up against Changmin’s left ear. “But you love me,” he says.

“I do,” Changmin groans, snorting beside himself as Yunho very gently pushes him down onto his hands and knees around a low murmured, “drop it _low_.” “Fuck if I do.”

“I love you too,” Yunho says, and slides back in in one clean thrust that has Changmin seeing stars.

“Love you so _much_ ,” says Changmin, hands given up and face shoved straight into the mattress. “So, so, so, _so_ much.”

“You say that but you’re currently ass up, Changmin-ah,” says Yunho, like the crude dick that Changmin for some dumb reason is head over heels for. Or ass up for, apparently.

“You’re mean, Hyung,” Changmin slurs, back bowing as Yunho finally gets a rhythm going. “I cannot believe you’re fucking me to the beat of your-- _fuck_. Your song.”  

Yunho snorts, breath coming in puffs against the back of Changmin’s neck as he comes down and covers him, making Changmin feel like he’s the not the one with three centimeters on the other and making his toes curl. “It’s a really good song, Changdol,” he breathes.

“You’re a good song,” Changmin moans out, dragging his arms in front of his face so that he can drop his forehead onto them and groan.

“Thank you.” Yunho finds Changmin’s prostate a few times like an utter tool. “You’re a good song too, Changdol.”

“Oh shut up,” Changmin manages, dropping his weight onto his shoulders and glowering over one at Yunho. “You’re lucky I’m-- _shitttt_ \--tired.”

“We’re better together, though,” Yunho says, worming a hand around Changmin so that he can get to his cock. “We’re like. The best song.”

“Hyung.” Changmin has no idea what the hell is happening anymore. “I will actually kill you this time if you don’t-- _fuck_ \--” He breaks off, words choking on a scream as Yunho notches up the heat considerably, wrapping a warm callused hand around Changmin’s cock the same time as his hips start to snap faster--it’s the beat of the dance break, Changmin thinks--and it’s glorious and wonderful and Changmin is going to fucking _lose it_.

“Mmm,” Yunho groans into the back of Changmin’s neck. “Wait, here, I’ll let you ride me again if that’ll make you feel better--”

“I should _never have sat on your dick_ period!” Changmin shrieks, reaching down to grab Yunho by the wrist so that he doesn’t do something stupid like _stop. Fucking. Changmin_.

“Yeah, okay, Changdol, _hush_ ,” says Yunho.

“Oh, you’re getting it,” gasps out Changmin, in broken, wailing tones, and comes so hard his teeth hurt.

Yunho follows him over a few moments later, biting into the nape of Changmin’s neck and mouthing praises into the skin there until Changmin’s ears start to burn.

His legs feel like jelly.

The room’s definitely spinning.

He has to go to work tomorrow.

“Hyung.” His voice sounds very far away.

Yunho says nothing until Changmin reaches back and thumps him in the side, at which point he grunts a little. “What?”

Changmin thwacks him again.

“I mean--what?” His tone is softer.

Changmin feels a smile around the corners of his mouth. He sighs, shifts his shoulders a bit, and then rolls so that they’re face to face. He ends up in the wet spot, but with a little pouting and well placed eyelashes Changmin’s pretty sure he can wrestle the best spot for himself--sprawled entirely across Yunho’s chest with _Yunho_ in the wet spot because it’s his damn bed and he can damn deal.

“I can’t believe you ripped your entire inseam,” says Changmin. “You weren’t even spreading that hard.”

Yunho’s mouth opens and closes on the double entendre.

Changmin rewards him for his decorum with a kiss, that, as always, turns into quite a few more, until Changmin’s lids are falling and he’s three seconds from saying fuck his earlier plans and sleeping right here.

“The pillows are the other way,” says Yunho finally.

Changmin sighs, and flops more solidly against the bed. “You’re going to have to carry me,” he says. “I’m not moving until I have to.”

Yunho smiles, kisses him again, this time on the nose--the _sap_ \--and does just that. He wipes Changmin down with something, and then himself, and Changmin thinks nothing of it until they’re cuddled close and almost to sleep.

“Hyung,” Changmin says. “Did you just use my underwear to clean us up?”

There’s a beat.

“Changdol, I’m not going to see you for a while,” says Yunho. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I hate you,” says Changmin darkly. “Don’t think I haven’t realized those were my favorite pair.”

“All the pairs I take from you are your favorite pairs, though,” says Yunho.

“Steal!” says Changmin, jabbing him in the center of the chest. “All the pairs you _steal_ from me are my favorite!”

Yunho catches his hand in his and interlaces their fingers. “But Changdol,” he says. “You leave all your favorite pairs on my floor. How am I supposed to know in the morning?”

“By using your eyes?” says Changmin. “Also, that is not an excuse. I can’t believe you’re still using that as an excuse, Hyung, please.”

“Also, to get back to your earlier punishment point,” Yunho continues, with no shame whatsoever. “You did tell me to show everything on stage--”

“This is _not_ what I meant!” snaps Changmin, cheeks aflame. “You’re lucky other people were involved in selecting your damn outfit.” It’s possible Yunho’s started tracing hangul into the back of his hand in the shape of ‘I love you,’ but Changmin is not going to be affected.

“The fabric was pretty weak,” Yunho agrees. “I didn’t really move that hard.”

“And it was your _entire_ inseam,” agrees Changmin, totally affected. “Stop that.”

Yunho stops it, but then he leans in for kisses and voiced ‘I love you’s, and Changmin doesn’t know why he puts up with him.

“When I’m out and we have to do songs together, we are _not_ doing any choreography with leg splits,” says Changmin, into Yunho’s mouth. “Okay? I am not ripping my pants.”

“No, you’ll just strip off your entire shirt,” grumbles Yunho, and Changmin lets him get away with that because, well, true, but also, kisses.

He pulls back for a brief moment. “You know I’m never letting you live this down--”

“Yes, Changmin.”

“We’re going to be on variety in 2019 when Kyu’s home and I’m still going to be pulling PDs aside so that they can bring up this moment--”

“Yes, Changmin.”

“Good.”

“Yes, Changmin.”

“You’re not even listening to me, are you.”

“Yes, Changmin.”

“I’m divorcing you to run away with Kyu.”

A pause.

“Oh my God, shut up, don’t look at me like that I’m--I’m never going to divorce you, okay?”

Changmin ducks his head, even though he can’t escape Yunho’s gaze cause they’re still wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Even though you broke a pair of pants so hard the entire audience got to see your thigh.”

“The pants were poorly made,” says Yunho, but he’s grinning. “And I’m never going to divorce you either.”

“Good,” says Changmin, heart warm. “Cause I’d--”

“Kill me, yes, Changdol, I know,” interrupts Yunho. “What would the fans say if they knew how murder happy you were?”

“The fans highly overestimate the extent of my possession kink,” Changmin says dryly. “I don’t think they’d mind.”

“Oh, but Changmin.” Yunho leans in close to take the shell of Changmin’s ear between his teeth and tugs. “You know how I feel about your possession kink.”

Changmin shivers, heart suddenly racing, cock suddenly stirring.

“I _love it_ ,” says Yunho. And, because he’s an utter asshole, “Drop it _low_.”

Changmin--kisses him.

\--

End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> AND THAT'S ALL SHE WROTE. 
> 
> [Tumblr Masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/162829639950/title-drop-wordsrating-65k-explicit-pic) || [Twitter Masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/884462128563965952)
> 
> Reblogs, Retweets, and comments are love.


End file.
